Mallorca 70.3 – Dee O’Connor style!!!

Ok, so way back when we started talking about doing a Half Ironman. It had to be done, but the question was where?? After going down to watch Tri an Mhi in 2013, I was adamant that I was going warm. On that day last year (they since moved the date forward this year – fingers crossed for sunshine) it was a dog durty kinda day! Everyone competing looked like a walking talking dulux colour card for the purple/red/grey section! I would have happily put them on bypass to warm up, I don’t think many would have refused! So someone mentioned Mallorca, I heard hot weather and beaches and was sold on it……..until we flew over it. As the plane passed over Mordor, I realised I hadn’t really read the brief….. at all! Common mistake of mine, although I do tend to like surprises……sometimes.

Car collected at the airport, we drove to Club Pollentia, the hotel. Ideally situated about halfway between Pollentia and Alcudia, it was a sporting mecca. We had done our homework and the hotel actually runs a tri camp out of it, boasting 2 laned pools and a third beaut of a one complete with palm trees, an over hanging bar, waterfall pool, and Jacuzzi, the pool being 50m long. The accommodation was 2 storey at highest and backed onto a nature reserve, queue the neighbouring ducks in the pool! The food was buffet style and as delicious as it was in plentiful supply.

But there was the wee matter of a race. We headed en masse to the beach to register and collect our bikes from the wondrous Shipmytribike. Now, I’ve never been to an Ironman branded event before – but the circus had most definitely come to town! The huge infamous blue archway led us astray and into the expo – where vast amounts of brands had set up shop under marquees, selling us all kind of brightly coloured gofasterstripes and potions. Registering gained us bracelets to be worn all weekend, and access to the “athlete’s garden”, an area used by day for the race briefing, consisting of a concert style stage, rows and rows of picnic tables and umbrellas, and an almighty supply of pasta! All on the beach with the backdrop of the crystal clear sea. On registering we headed up to transition and to find Shipmytribike. They had positioned themselves metres away from transition!! Not hard when transition has to cater for 3,000 bikes and is practically 1k long!!!! The next day we would return with our 3 bags to transition; the blue bag for T1, red run bag for T2, and a white street wear bag for afterwards. Andrea was seen at this point (ever the pro!) walking his way through transition, camera on video as he went, to film the route he would have to take from entry into transition to his blue bag and onto his bike, so he could watch it pre race to familiarise himself with his path (3,000 bags and bikes is a lot of rows of bikes people – easy to get lost!). And he did the same for the route to his run bag and beyond. He did later admit however, that he did it from the wrong entrance to transition so it had been in fact a waste of time !!!

Bikes tested and racked, left race briefing and shopping. The race briefing was interesting. It was informative and pompous, although a bit incomplete. Dublin HIM 2015 got a mention, but the content of the cycle route in Mallorca was not! The beautiful, continuous climb with its balance of switchbacks the opposite side was going to be a surprise to everyone who had not checked out the route. A health risk, liable to cause injury.

So too was the Ironman brand shop, but for much more palatable reasons. Situated on the beach, bathed in the finest heat, was the Ironman shop. I must at this point mention that the race had drawn people from all over Europe, and some of the finest athletes it has to offer. 3,000+ had signed up for the race. Less than 400 were women – you do the math 😉 Given the heat of the day, these fine specimens were parading around like a mass audition for a Calvin Klein ad. There were ripples on chests to rival Glendalough Lake on a windy day. When people tell you that the scenery in Mallorca is fabulous, I can tell you now it is!! I positioned myself outside the marquee, beside the cycle jersey section, and was only to happy to assist when asked – ‘what do you think of this size/colour on me??’ – hhmmm not sure! – try this one – no, this one – ok, back to the first one! I have never been so close to getting whiplash before a race before 😉

At this stage Andrea and Niall had cycled the route and reported back. Apparently it was ‘no Sally Gap’ and ‘we would love it’. Hhhmm. Sounded great, but we wanted to see it for ourselves, so in two cars we set off to drive it, myself, Tom, Richie and Hilary in one car, Miriam, Rachel, Marc and Peter in the second. The course left Pollentia, headed along the flat coastal road, past the hotel to Alcudia, and then took a left turn to Mordor. Now, in the run up to the race, we were all doing our best to read up on anything that would make the race day easier, pass quicker, with as little pain as possible. Hydration was key. Apparently alcohol free beer was quite beneficial ( I prefer free beer to be honest) so quite the numbers were consumed, at consistent, regular, timed, intervals. At about the 12k mark, the road began to ascend. And turn. The route became steeper and the turns more plentiful, the road narrower. And continued like this for what felt like eternity. It just kept continuing. Richie and I were like 5 yr olds in the backseat, falling through the gap between the front seats, ‘are we there yet? style. The atmosphere became so quiet and icy, little baby penguins ran across the dash board! Richie says it was ‘all the pre hydration’ and not nerves, but we had to make a pit stop to water the flowers. Picking a nice spot out of view of the car, he was happy, until Miriam and co. pulled up in car number 2 that we had forgotten about in our fright. The route anyways, was going to be tough and an unrelenting 12k climb. And then came the switchbacks !! Now, I’m not one to panic – I firmly believe it is an unnecessary aggravation that serves no purpose, but I could not wait to get a hold of Andrea ‘you’ll love it’ Talpo ! for a lambasting 😉

Dinner the night before the race was quite lovely. A massive table to fit our motley crew, lashing of pastas and every carb loaded feast you could think of, round 2 of helpings. Tactics were discussed, plans were hatched, and Miriam (of all people) and Marc began handing out small white tablets to everyone, getting uncomfortable glances form other tables for their lack of discretion. Let’s face it, none of us looked like we were going to win the race, so doping tests were not going to be an issue! Anyway, they swear they were salt tablets. Richie’s sister Fiona, with a history in sports psychology, may well have given a video conference, so plentiful were the questions asked of her by the group, us hanging on every word as relayed by Richie – ‘control the controllables’ became the catch phrase. More palatable than our Man the Fuck Up ( MTFU ), to anyone’s quibbles !

Up pre dawn on race day and we all met in the restaurant for a midnight snack basically. Like kids on their first day at school, we hopped on the coaches and took off for Pollentia. Last minute checks done on the bikes, tyres pumped, gels taped onto crossbars, forgotten items put into run/bike bags, water bottles caged. Into the changing marquees and wetsuits were peeled on. Andrea was found and given a roasting, for presuming his natural gazelle like qualities for the bike and run were not blessed on the rest of us mere mortals and how on earth did he think that we would ‘love’ the cycle!!! His argument was that you should never drive a cycle route – the perspective is very different from sitting on a bike to sitting in a car, and that if he was wrong about it he would buy me a drink, to trust him! I told him I don’t trust Italians. I ended up buying him the drink. He was right.

Crowds had gathered on the beach after dawn had broken, the Ironman archway surrounded by hundreds of wetsuit clad people and supporters, the music was blaring – or was it Dazz with his Getoblaster and Ray Bans 😉 The pro’s were released like caged animals, and the ladies lined up second. Goggles on, pleasantries over and we were off in a direct line out to sea, 90 degree right turn at the first buoy, and a return to the beach from the second buoy, in water as clear as Ballygowan. As we ran up the shuttle run under the archway aiming for the town and transition, a very distinct holler could be identified above the roar of the crowds from Dazz – fair play!

Transition was not the usual – it covered the breadth of the road and was nearly 1 k long. On entry, women kept to the right, ran up to the blue bag rail, grabbed your numbered bag and continued to the female changing marquee to suit off and cycle up! Now this meant that basically you were all on top of each other trying to get changed, arms flailing as wetsuits were tugged off, bums in the air, water flying! I made the glorious mistake of not bringing a towel, but frantically decided I had to apply my sun cream regardless – when the sun cream hit my wet skin it was like it had turned it to white water colour paint and it just sloshed everywhere, making me whiter than white! And the few people beside me too! Bike found (thank St Anthony) and onward to the hills. The initial plan of taking it easy along the seafront was thrown to the wind, a left turn at Alcudia, and we were onto the mountain. Now I have to admit, Andrea was indeed spot on – the climb was very different on the bike to how it had appeared in the car. Lesson No.10 noted. I took advice from Kim who had reccied the route in the weeks previously and spun the legs up the inclines.

At some point on the uphill, Niall, Andrea and Eoin passed by, fresh as daisies (as if they were on a downhill!). Now if the uphill was tough, the downhill was just as tough. I did feel very hard done by that for all the efforts of getting to the top, there was no reprieve on the downhill. The switchbacks were endless. And remember we are on the opposite side of the road, it being Spain n all – it just felt pure bold!! Thank God for the triathlon training camp in France last year. Mountain over and 50k or so of power cycling to go. A few things stand out in my mind with regard the cycle home. Firstly I felt it rather cruel to send a group of thirsty, tired people cycling through a vineyard with no offer of a bottle of wine. The heat was pumping down on us – queue the consumption of at least 4 litres of water on the bike. The first water station I arrived at only pointed out a very serious lacking in my bike handling skills! The water stations were on the right hand side of the road – and I cannot take my right hand off the handlebars! I didn’t figure this out until over there and I flew past it, frustrated and thirsty! At the second one however I was adamant to get some bloody water – so I swerved in as close as I could to the 5 water marshals extending my left hand over my right for a bottle, scaring the sh#t out of them as they all bar one screamed and jumped out of the way!! Bar one brave soul at the back who extended his arm as far away from his body as possible!! Lesson learned MTFU.

So back to Pollentia and T2, bikes racked, runners on and out the other side for the run – got that Marc, Tom, Richie??????? Bam bam bam. Apparently when the boys landed into T2, they managed to all come in at the same time and had a mini reunion that consisted of hugging, fist bumping, reminiscing of T2’s of old, cups of tea, applying sun cream for each other. What made their excited banter all the more uncomfortable and confusing for others close by (during a race!) was that they were not wearing the same strip and looked like random strangers to each other, to the point where those not wanting strangers giving them hugs shimmied away! But excited they were, and so overcome with the joy of heading out for that final run (and given their long rest in T2) Tom bolted from the blocks Usain Bolt style to take his first 1k in 3.10 (no word of a lie, check out his splits!) and Richie like a spring lamb, still wearing his cycling shorts! I must also add that Tom and Marc let him!!!!

The run consisted of three 7k loops, starting in the town on the main street and snaking its way down to the beach, following a 2k path parallel to the sea, lined on the left with supporters cheering in the sand. It then made its way back up into the town to the main street where we overlapped with those on the opposite side of the road. Temperatures had risen to OH 35 odd degrees at this stage, unbeknownst to us. I saw no less than 5 people collapsed with probably heat exhaustion. Christmas turkey kind of weather. The portaloos were at this point like glasshouses (minus the ‘l’). On the 7k lap, there were 4 aid stations, overloaded with sponges, water, slices of oranges, bananas, poweraid etc. Although I do not like running loops, the day that was in it, it was perfect!! That sighting of a club mate was priceless! They knew your pain!!! They understood!! You were happy that they survived the bike, that you survived the bike! Those first high fives were priceless, although a little too close like someone was trying to get my lap band off my wrist!!!! The banter was mighty and we were homeward bound! Slowly but surely! The pace however was always increased as we approached the beach and the ultimate support crew!! Sinead Graham was a beautiful sight to behold, beautifully bronzed, jumping up and down in her red bikini, beaming at us. She could be heard before she was seen. In true Sinead style she had befriended a nice little motley crew who were also dedicated to the cause, their support drowning out those around them. We all sped up as we passed by, rejuvenated with her enthusiasm, although I did notice a few lads on the run slow down to enjoy the view ;-). Further down the beachfront, through the restaurant with extra beachfront seating on either side of the running track, were Darren and Niamh, ever loud, ever proud, running alongside whooping and bucking like a spring lamb. I do believe I witnessed inside information being given to a nameless male on how far ahead the next Pulse person was to them, just to spur on some friendly competition!

And after ever so long, it was time to veer left onto the beach, into the sand, ring the bell and pass under the Ironman (70.3) arch. The athlete’s enclosure looked ever so different to that morning, rails of white numbered street wear bags waited patiently for their owners. The pasta tent was in high demand. T-shirts were picked up and medals proudly displayed. Lying down in the sea was the ultimate way to cool off. We waited for each other at the finish line. Miriam went to find and thank the supporters who had spent all day in the heat from dawn through the midday sun, encouraging us and willing us along. Weary and overheated, but happy as children after their first school tour we sat in the shade until it was time to go back to transition and pick up the bikes and kit. And then, due to the joy that is Shipmytribike we turned and walked 500m and handed it over to the big black and green truck who brought it home for us. We walked to the nearest premises that sold pasta, pizza and beer and sat down for a feast. Then back to the hotel for the fastest T3 yet, and to the hotel bar we went, sitting on the veranda overlooking the pool, where the individual experiences were shared and stories unfolded. Miriam put her fantastic bike split down to the fact that she had applied quite proudly, a burn proof layer of sun cream all over herself – expect for 10 mins down the road she realised she’d forgotten her face! So just put the head down as sped home for fear of scalding her face!! Nothing of course said of her Trojan training efforts! He who shall remain nameless had unwittingly landed himself in a whole heap of pain by consuming Willy Wonka’s share of chocolate bars on the bike and 14 gels. Lesson undoubtedly learned! The fear of the burn had crossed everyone’s minds – Marc had reapplied so many layers of sun cream, he finished the race a whole 2 shades whiter than when he started earning him a Pulse prize! In his defence – he did not burn – he looked like Casper but he was not a crispy chicken! Tom received his Mike Tyson style tattoo for the longest T2, although it was hotly contended by the 2 others guys.

The party took flight the next night when we were adequately rested, and we headed en masse to Pollentia for a meal and a few obligatory drinks. And so the giddiness began. The guys, having put up with our MTFU comments for so long had retaliated and as I turned around from the bar, I found them all wearing flowers in their hair and sipping from the biggest cocktails I’ve ever seen! Inner Goddesses were being embraced, as were Pina Coladas, Blue Lagoons and Forest fruits! Until the bar had been suitably drunk dry and we continued onto the night club, which we later found out was a gay club! Ever wanting to reminisce, we walked to it via one last lap through transition! Or the place where it used to be! The club itself firstly appeared a bit dingy, but we persevered on and it quickly became quite lively and loud – or maybe that was just us! The obligatory stage dancing was seen, shot taking, one or two stage dives and a wondrous somersault from mid stage surprised even its executor! Word of warning Darren Hughes – if that video finds its way to the Christmas Party, you will be a wanted man for all the wrong reasons! Off home we tumbled for the regular Monday night swim, albeit at stupid o’clock, with a difference, before falling into a happy tired slumber.

And so the next few days, the focus shifted to what next? Where to race? What goals to pick? One race feeds another. So if anyone would like to encourage Richie along the way in confirming his decision to do Shadowman – feel free to egg him on!! A little friendly persuasion always works 😉

All in all, Mallorca was a fantastic experience. The race was one aspect to it. But it was everything around it that made the holiday. I hadn’t really understood it until I went. And next year, I will be doing one again – most definitely.

Lessons learned; esp for hot weather races
– Have 3 sun creams – one for bike bag, run bag, morning of the race.
– Wearing a cycle jersey protects shoulders from sunburn
– Salt tablets – necessary!!!!
– Food that works at home may be too dry in hot weather and unpalatable
– Bring a towel T2
– Bring a camera to registration on the beach 🙂